A Debt
by rebornwhole
Summary: I need to do this. I have to do this. Then I'll be free. I will finally be free. I'll get a safe house and I will leave when I can, and not a moment sooner or later. I can't be a burden. I have to be a ghost. Now more than ever. I'll go to my sister. She'll help me. She owes me a debt.
1. Chapter 1

**A Debt.**

**Author's Note: Yes, I know in all legitimate parts of the Marvel Universe, as far as I know, Natasha doesn't have a sister. She is my own character, and this is an AU created entirely around her existence. Enjoy my lovelies!**

**Also: The pronunciation of Anastasia's name is: Ana - stah - (stah is pronounced sort of like stall, without the ll's, and a tall a) - zia**

To say the least, she looked shocked that I was there in the first place. I had died my hair brown, since those with brown hair were less distinguishable that those with red. She was talking with a man who had hair that seemed to be a cross between blonde and a red color. She looked exactly the same as she did two years ago, but had cut off most of her hair so that it was around her shoulders instead of her waist. It also was curled instead of straight. The second I walked in, my body decided that it was the correct time to bend over into a coughing fit, drawing the attention of Natalia Alianovna Romanova, my sister. I call her Nova, both because her last name ends in it, and the fact that she calls me Casca, even though she's the older one.

I was unable to see her reaction since my eyes were watering from the coughs that shook my ribcage. She was silent for a while after I looked up, clasping my hands behind my back, preparing myself for anything, and not surprisingly, she punched my in the jaw.

Let me tell you, her punch had improved considerably since I had last seen her, and I knew my jaw would be bruised the next day. The only thought I had at the moment was _"Thank goodness that my jaw was no longer made of glass."_

"You are quite the welcome party, Nova."

"Well, Casca, you taught me that one."

"I did, didn't I? Well, I must say that I am thankful my jaw is no longer easily shattered. You still have not given me my money for the bet we made."

"Which one, Casca?"

"Well, Nova, the one that involved which one of us would get our jaw wired up first."

"That one. I should have known you would win that."

"Jaw of glass, Nova, that was the key. You needn't give me money, but a favor."

She looked skeptical, she was not sure if I was tricking her or not, the man she was talking to had followed the conversation as if it made perfect sense.

"What is the favor?"

"I need a place to stay, I have made certain decisions I shouldn't have, and I need to stay away from my employers for a while."

"You still use knives?"

"You are looking at the female, Russian, and a heck of a lot less gory Jack the Ripper. I think I have been registered as a serial killer in Moscow."

"Casca, you always were an idiot."

"Thank you, Nova, I truly appreciate it."

She let go of my arm, and I walked over to the man in the room.

"Anastasia."

"Clint Barton." He shook my proffered hand and looked from me to Nova, as if double checking if I was alright. I felt her eyes on the back of my head before I heard her move over here.

"If I am to take you anywhere, you will need to give me all of your weapons."

"Nova, you cannot be serious."

She raised an eyebrow and gestured to the table. I walked over and deposited one of my bags on the table and went through it, retrieving all of my knives. My knives for a safe house. It seemed like a fair deal. After my bags were emptied of their weapons, which was a rather considerable amount. Security is surprisingly lax in America, or they do not check well enough. I pulled the knives from my hair and wrists. I removed all of my weapons except one, an anklet that had a small blade hidden in one of the charms.

"Take off the anklet."

I growled at her knowing tone and carefully bent over and removed the jewelry, letting it clatter onto the table with nearly 20 other weapons.

Clint Barton raised his eyebrows at the sheer amount of weapons I had on me. I shrugged.

"Nova can hold more because she is taller and possesses a much larger chest. She is also far more attractive than I."

She rolled her eyes. "Come along, Casca, we have a shelter to get to. You will stay there for as long as you need to." I nodded. "You will not have any weapons on your person during that time, you will not make any phone calls unless they are monitored, no outside communication without permission and all communications must be read before sent, et cetera. Do you understand?"

"Understood."

"Good, now if you could get in the car." She tied a blindfold over my eyes and helped me into the vehicle, making sure I did not hit my head.

She did not get in with me, but sat in the front, beside the driver, who I had assumed was Clint Barton. After an hour of driving, she allowed me to remove the blindfold, and there I sat, in the backseat of a car. I was bored out of my mind, and soon retreated into it, pulling from the boring car ride and into my whirlwind of thoughts.

I was wondering, out of everything, why it had to be me to be pregnant. Why was it always me out of everyone in the world, every married woman. It was first job when it happened, when I met Braydon, the kindest man to ever walk this Earth. He was killing someone next door when we met. We were making our getaways, identical bags over our shoulders, standing in an elevator together. He had some blood on his cheek. I heard the door open, and a man was walking in. I immediately kissed his cheek, hiding the blood. He was stunned, but went along with the act, gripping my hand in his own. After the man left, he gave me a card. It told me to meet him at a cafe sometime around 4 tomorrow afternoon. I had thought nothing of it, placing it into my pocket and getting on with my life until 4 in the afternoon the next day. I did not have anything to do, and I was sprawled on my bed, staring at my then-blonde hair. I went to the cafe at around 4, wearing jeans, a sweater, and a jacket that went to my knees. I entered the cafe, ordering hot chocolate and sitting in a booth, swirling the liquid in the mug. Then he walked, looking completely different. I had washed out the dye before I left my apartment, so I was a redhead, and he was a brunette, unlike the blonde he wore the day before. I had held up my hand, signaling where I was, and he walked over after ordering, waiting for a mug of his own.

"That was quick thinking in the elevator, thank you."

"No problem, you had blood on your cheek."

"What's your name?"

I raised an eyebrow, "What is yours?"

He laughed, throwing his head back as if I had said something hilarious. I was confused, but hid it as he answered. "Braydon, your turn."

"Anastasia."

"Alright Ana, what do you do for a living?"

I burst into laughter, he joined too, and my sides ache afterward. I hid a smile behind my mug as I took a sip of my hot chocolate. "Well, Braydon, I work for a private company that allows me to speak with all sorts of individuals to strike up agreements between my company and theirs."

"I do similar work at my own place of business, Anastasia."

"That is quite enthralling, Braydon, but I would rather speak of other, far less dull topics."

"I agree. What might your favorite color be?"

"Blue."

Our talk turned into a game of questions and answers, and at the end we agreed to meet up again. We did not trust each other without cell numbers yet, so we settled for meeting at the same cafe every Tuesday, and if one could not show up, don't, no explanations needed. We did this for two years, soon going out with each other on Saturday nights, he had nicknamed be Ana, but I still called him Braydon, liking his real name more than any nickname I could think of. Other than Idiot, that is. My mind moved past all of the boring fluff that I treasured.

"Braydon! Stop it!" I remembered squealing as he was over me, tickling me mercilessly, relishing in my annoyance. I soon was able to hook my knee around his, flipping us over so that I was over him instead. He kissed me before I began to tickle him.

We somehow managed to fall off the bed in our battle, and as if on a cue, the doorbell rang. We both froze, going into high alert. I held a finger to my lips. This was supposed to be a safe house. I quickly changed into a skirt and pulled a cardigan on, hiding the gun I had stowed in my belt and the knives I had placed on my thighs and in my hair. An old woman stood at the door, holding a covered dish.

"I apologize if I am interrupting anything, but I live next door, and I wanted to bring a covered dish over." She thrust the dish into my unsuspecting hands, and Braydon walked up behind me, opening the door a bit wider, stepping into the conversation for me.

"Thank you, ma'am, we will enjoy it."

The woman smiled, as if pleased that we had accepted the dish, and left our porch, hand on the rail, and walking to a small car parked on the road.

We stepped back into the house, I was slightly stunned. She was nice. Actually, genuinely nice. I was immediately suspicious of her. I placed the dish in the fridge, but not before testing it for poison. Natasha had told me to do that. Braydon thought I was being ridiculous, that she was being friendly.

Of course he wouldn't suspect a thing. He was right, but I was never going to tell him. We were married on paper, but we had immediately shredded it, and we only wore our rings around our necks.

We soon had to leave the house, and we moved back to our respective apartments, but they had seemed too empty, and we spent every spare moment we could together. We were not like other couples. Sure, we had shared a bed on our wedding night, but that was it, the danger of pregnancy was too great, and a child was a disadvantage in our line of work. But that one night was an exception. He was leaving on a mission, and he had done a very good job of seducing me before my practical brain registered what occurred. I had just come home from a job, positively drunk to the moon and back, and wearing something I would never wear otherwise. He had claimed that he could not help himself. He left for the job, making sure to kiss me before he left. Braydon Alexei Kirdan never came back from his job, leaving me with a key and a ring around my neck, and nothing left of him. Then I found that I was pregnant. I was sitting in a bathroom with a multitude of pregnancy tests, and all of them read positive. I had immediately burned them, successfully setting off the fire alarm, and getting on the next train out, makeup successfully hiding my appearance, and many knives on my person.

I had made a mistake. I fell in love. All I could tell myself then was "I told you so" and that annoying voice in my head was right. I had told myself not to go to the coffee shop that day, not to kiss that man in the elevator, to not open up, to not go into the business. I could not help myself though, I couldn't help the fact that I fell in love, and that was my downfall.


	2. Chapter 2

Natasha's voice brought me to the present. "You will not have a backstory, those are far too confusing, and Stark will simply hack past it. Casca, you will tell them the truth, whatever you are willing to reveal, most likely you will tell them more than you tell me." If she was sad about that statement, she hid it well behind a blank face and a tone of business.

She was right; I did not trust the people knew as much as I trusted strangers. Maybe because I would leave such a fleeting impression on them, that I could tell them something, and wake up the next morning knowing I would not have to face them. But these strangers I would see every day.

We pulled up at the safe house. House being the completely incorrect term. It was a freaking tower. I looked at Natasha, who sighed at the sight, as if it brought terrible memories. She gripped my elbow and brought me through the tower, to an elevator. Clint Barton stood on the other side of me. He was standing exactly where Braydon had stood. I pushed Braydon from my head, silently swearing not to think about him.

The doors opened, revealing couches and several people on them, playing a rather violent video game. Natasha had let go of my arm, and walked ahead of me. I followed obediently, and the people in the room stopped their game. Tony Stark looked up, "Legolas! Natasha! Wonderful timing, we have two more controllers..." He trailed off, his eyes landing on me. He walked sauntered over. I stole a glance to Nova, who gave me an imperceptible nod, knowing what I was thinking.

"And who is this?"

"I am Anastasia."

"Ana, I did not know that you were a Russian, well, you are quite an exquisite creature." He took my hand and brought it to his lips. The second he did so, I gripped his wrist and turned him about so that he was doubled over, wrist up his shoulder blade and shoulder nearly out of its socket.

"Do not call me Ana. Call me that again, and I will remove both of your shoulders from their sockets, break your collarbones, and then leave you drooling on the floor while I sharpen my knives over you. Are we understood, Tony Stark?"

"Understood, Anastasia!" He gasped. I let go, pushing him forward.

"Also, no flirting, you are nearly married after all."

Natasha placed a hand on my arm, silently telling me to shut up before speaking.

"Anastasia will be staying here. This is a safe house for her. She will be monitored at all times. All of her weapons have been removed, so you should not worry about a third of that threat, Stark." With that she walked off, clearly expecting me to follow. I picked up my bags and curtsied before leaving the room.

"Good job with Stark, Casca."

"No problem, I will happily beat him up any day of the week."

"This is your room, make yourself at home. By the way, the disembodied British voice is JARVIS, he runs the house."

"Thank you, Nova, I truly appreciate you doing this."

"I'm Natasha Romanoff here. Don't forget it."

"Well, I'm Anastasia Kirdan Roma. What does it matter?"

"Kirdan?"

"Ask me no questions, I will tell you no lies."

"Understood."

"Thank you, Nova."

"No problem, Casca."

Then she walked out of the room, hair bouncing and hips swinging. That was why she was such a good assassin. She could lure anyone in with a glance. I, on the other hand, had to work for it. I think I did alright, I've killed my share, and maybe now, it is time to retire, at least from slaughtering who I am told to. Maybe then I can raise my child in peace. I think that deep down, I know that will never be true, not with someone like me raising it.

I didn't know what to call him or her. I thought of names as I placed my bags on the ground and pulled out my hair brush, and pulled it through my hair. The dark strands were knotted. I sighed and continued with the comfortable routine. I ran the brush through the thin strands a hundred times. That was what I was used to, taking a few seconds out of my life to do simple, mundane things, such as brushing my hair. No one bothered me. I soon stripped off my clothes and stepped into the shower. I was not showing yet. I was going to have to do research on pregnancy and childbirth, then I can be somewhat prepared for the child. I told myself I would not have cared if it was a girl or a boy, but I knew that I wanted a girl. I had known so many strong women that I had lost faith in most men. Most of them were rather idiotic, such as Tony Stark. But others were not so terrible. I decided that I would name her Kira or Alice, and him Lewis or Alexander. The middle names were a work in progress.

"Ms. Anastasia, Mr. Stark requests your presence in the conference room."

I rolled my eyes and pulled on my shoes, walking through the halls in an old dress that I had pulled from the bottom of my bag, as I was far too lazy to wrestle with my pants at the time of putting on clothes. My hair was still damp, and I had just pulled it into a tail at the bottom of my head. I stepped into the hall and followed the commotion until I found the dining room in question. I stepped in and folded my hands in front of me, as if awaiting instruction from a tutor.

"Glad you could join us Anastasia, please take a seat beside Capsicle!" The indicated man rolled his eyes, but stood, pulled out my chair, then pushed it in after I sat down. A true gentleman.

"Thank you."

"No problem, ma'am."

I raised my eyebrows, but other than that, showed no other surprise at his gallant behavior. I folded my hands in my lap, sitting calmly as I was surveyed. I turned to Tony Stark

"I would like to apologize for my earlier behavior, but my promise still stands."

"Natasha called it a threat."

"She was mistaken in the instance of my sincerity. It was a promise that I will not hesitate to enact."

"Understood, Anastasia."

"Thank you. Now what have you called me for, it is obviously not the time for any meal. That is, unless you all have afternoon tea."

"We don't, none of us are British enough for that. Even JARVIS. If you are going to be living in my tower, I want to know more about you, just for kicks."

"Naturally. But, there is little more you need to know. You know my name, you know I'm from Russia, unless you cannot discern accents, and you know I have a penchant for violence. Is there anything else that must be known?" I moved my folded hands from my lap to the table, gesturing slightly with them.

"Yes, actually, your date of birth."

"A woman never reveals her age."

"Birthplace."

"Now that would be telling, now wouldn't it? You would simply search all hospitals in the area, then hack their records. I am not a simpleton, Tony Stark."

"JARVIS says you do not exist."

"Am I sitting in this room?"

"Yes."

"Then you have tangible proof of my existence. I nearly dislocated your shoulder. I exist."

"No records of you do."

"I know. I erased them all."

"Don't be an idiot. There isn't even a birth certificate."

"I know." I smiled, raising my chin. My smile held no true emotion, it was a mocking smile. One I wore when I knew something another did not.

"You are not going to tell us anything."

"Everything will reveal itself in due time, Tony Stark. If I wished for you to know something, you would know it already. Now, might I be excused from this lovely show of affection?" I stood up, pushing back my chair, making to leave.

"Not quite yet, Ms. Romanova."


	3. Chapter 3

That was a new voice. I tensed, and watched as a tall man in black leather strode in, back straight and stance strong. He was a man who had seen war, but was aware of the law and its consequences.

"Why not, Director Fury?"

"Because I have your records, Anastasia Jillian Romanova-Kirdan."

"Pleasure." I stated drily, leaning back in my seat. "Do you want my entire life on display for the buffoon Tony Stark and his band of merry men and Natasha Romanoff, or can we talk someplace where his idiocy will not dull my intelligence?" I smiled a crocodile's smile. Fake and forced. I had perfected it.

"Of course. We will discuss this matter somewhere else." He left the room, I stood and followed him, and unsurprisingly, Natasha did as well, falling into step with me.

"I told them nothing, Casca."

"I know, Nova, do not worry. Director Fury most likely wishes to lecture you in addition to myself on several topics, one of them being my criminal status, how you kept a secret from the agency whose secrets have secrets, and other things that I have yet to think of."

Nova flashed a smile, one that I still noticed even after all of those years. She was happy, but did not want to admit it.

We entered another room. Director Fury pulled out a device and pressed a button, most likely turning off all of the cameras. Then he pushed a file across the table, presumably where he wanted me to sit. I did so, sinking into it gratefully, and although I would never tell the man, I was grateful that he always let me sit down when we met. He may be a spy that could be a wonderful assassin, but he had manners. I opened the file, and saw each of my kills, including pictures of myself with each man, gouging out their eyes with two thin knives. It was my trademark. Then they had Braydon and I, together, holding hands outside our old house, him meeting me in the elevator. The coffee shop. I schooled my face impassive, and turned to the last page. It had a profile of myself, including a presumed physical and psychological analysis. Clipped onto the page was a picture of one of the many pregnancy tests that I had taken. There was a note on it stating "Mrs. Kirdan: Pregnant."

I shut the folder. "What do you want with me? I am of no use to you. I cannot tell you anything about my superiors, because I am a grunt, I go in, and I kill, I get my money and I am done until they need me again. It is not as if I can fight for you for the next eighteen months."

Natalia had picked up the file, flicking through the pictures and statistics of those I have killed as if that did not bother her, she stopped when she saw Braydon.

"_Mrs. _Kirdan?" She asked, her voice low. I nodded solemnly, staring straight ahead.

"We want your cooperation, Mrs. Kirdan."

"Ms. Romanova, if you please."

"Of course. You will supply us with what we need, at our request, and we will supply you with safety from whatever organization during and after your pregnancy."

I nodded numbly. I had little choice in the matter. The Director of S.H.E.I.L.D. left the room in a quick movement of dark skin and leather. He left the hand-written file on the table. They must have multiple copies in their base.

"Anastasia, you had better tell me what happened."

I felt what little blood I had left in my face drain. I told her the basics. "He's dead, and I'm left with child. We were married, so this makes me a widowed single mother. I don't even have his body, and there is no way that I can tell my child that their father was a hero. Braydon was no hero, just as I am no heroine. I will raise it, and that is why I needed a safe house, not for me, but for my child."

I looked down at my hands, thoroughly ashamed of myself. I felt a careful hand on my shoulder.

"Anastasia. Casca. You are an absolute idiot for getting yourself pregnant, but I am overjoyed that I will be able to hold a child and call it my sister's. You are going to have to tell everyone else, because telling them is better than Stark making assumptions. You still can beat him up anytime you wish."

"I will not get thrown out?"

"If he throws you out, he has me to deal with."

"That is my girl, Natalia-sorry, Nova." I smiled a kissed her cheek and rose from the table, my blood still rushing in my ears as I walked back to the room that Nova showed me as mine. It was quiet. I laid back on the bed, disrupting the sheets as I pulled off my shoes and let my hair down, braiding the damp strands and laying between the sheets, calming my mind and placing a hand around my stomach. It was a habit ever since I found out about my pregnancy, to protect what was mine. My other hand went under the pillow, and found nothing to grip on, since I usually fell asleep with a gun beneath my head. I did not find guns as useful as my knives, but they were more useful when the mind was still in a sleep-induced haze.

I just curled my hand into a fist and tried to fall asleep, knowing that I would not have a warm body beside me, or any pretense of safety.

Thankfully, I could blame it all on hormones. Get away with it as well. I laid in the bed, until deciding to change into workout clothes, a thin t-shirt and shorts.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, Mrs. Kirdan?"

"Is there a gym in Tony Stark's fun house?"

"Yes, down the hall, third door from your location on the right."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

"Also, I would prefer to be called Ms. Romanova or Anastasia."

"Your preference has been noted, Mrs. Kirdan."

I rolled my eyes. Just what I needed, a robot who knew what sass was. Exactly my luck.

I walked to the gym, tennis shoes hanging my their laces in my hands and my socks already sliding on the floor, getting no traction whatsoever.

The large room was dark, I searched for a light switch just as the entire room was bathed in light. I muttered my thanks to JARVIS before tying my shoes on and putting my headphones in, stretching as the music blasted in my ears. I fell into a routine, one that I had known since I was a child, going through the motions, throwing all that I felt into the movements until there was nothing else but muscle and sinew pulling and pushing, rippling beneath my skin, becoming all that I was. I was not a girl who was pregnant with no place to go. Nor was I a cold-blooded killer, who cut out the eyes of her victims. I was only the beat of drums and the movement of chords. I was the music, I was fluid, with no true beginning nor ending.

I registered when the Captain entered the room, but he was no threat to me, as he took the punching bag beside me, which was obviously weighted. I was using his first choice, I supposed, by the way he glanced at me. I brushed him off, but moved from the bag, allowing him the bag as I moved to the track, beginning at a slow jog, and gradually speeding up, seeing how many flips and twists I could throw in before I scraped my knees and elbows. My count reached 26 before someone tripped me.

Nova smirked before running off, weaving through the gym. Her path was too easy to track. I tackled her and pinned her by the wrists until she rapped her knuckles on the floor three times. She conceded quietly, sending me death glares. I shrugged.

"Never mess with a woman in my condition, Nova."

She rolled her eyes and ignored my offered hand, standing up on her own and saying. "Clean up, SHEILD wants to see you today. You also have a doctor's appointment, if you try to avoid that, we will have some issues to talk about." Natalia sauntered off, hips swinging, and I could not help but tilt my head and watch her. It was almost a reflex. She had a really nice-looking backside.

I shook my head and followed, going to the "my" room and taking a shower. I checked my reflection and quickly applied cosmetics, scowling slightly and somehow getting into my clothes, although my stomach tried to rebel against me. It finally did, I was walking to the elevator, when I felt bile rise up in my throat. I dropped what I was holding and sprinted into the nearest room, kneeling before the toilet. I silently thanked my earlier decision to pull my hair back. I finished and flushed the toilet, and saw Clint Barton standing in the doorway, Nova behind him, scowling at me. I cleaned my mouth out and reapplied my make-up.

"I am sorry you had to see that." I said before turning and leaving, gathering myself as I walked, forcing my back straighter. I checked the time. JARVIS, the odd disembodied voice, told me that my meeting with Director Fury was not until this afternoon. I walked to the kitchen on the floor, the one I seemed to share with Nova and Clint Barton. It was _huge_. I smiled and pulled off my jacket, and began to raid the cabinets.

I might not have like Tony Stark that much, but he knew how to stock a kitchen. I pulled out ingredients for an old recipe that I would always cook for Braydon, almost on instinct. He always begged me to make it. I walked to my room, grabbed my apron and journal (it was home to all the recipes I had harvested) and put on the worn fabric covering. I could make it in time for something or the other. I did not know a thing about Russian cuisine. I never really cared for it. I always found the American southern "comfort food" interesting, although the white haired women, Paula Deen, scared me just a bit. I flipped through the journal, then landed on the recipe, double-checking out of habit before scrubbing my hands clean. I pulled two stones from my apron pocket and held down the pages of my journal, feeling comfort in the familiar actions. I began making the food, the portions for all the people in the tower that I knew of, so the entirety of the Avengers, and then some, since some would obviously eat more than others. I felt the familiar slight burn in my arms as I kneaded bread, the muscles were not used as constantly in the fighting that I did.

The smell of food attracted Nova and Clint Barton, Nova blinked at me, and I shrugged before returning to work, dirty dishes piling up in the sink. I continued my work, reusing what I could and throwing into the extras bowl to mix up into a casserole what I couldn't use. Braydon would always watch me. He always tried to take something from the bowls. I began to wash dishes, stopping when timers competed for my attention. The counters were filled with all sorts of food, and somehow, it had drawn the inhabitants of the next few floors. I gave them all pointed glances.

"If you want any of this food, you are going to have to wash your hands," I tilted my head slightly as I counted the number of people in the room, "and faces." I added, turning as I heard grumbling, and waved my free hand at them, gesturing for them to get a move on. I set the nearby table, and as the men and women walked back in, I held out a bowl, which I had labeled "Electronic Devices" Nova's face remained passive as she dropped her phone into the bowl, Tony Stark scowled at me and unloaded his pockets. His girlfriend/fiancé, Pepper Potts did not seem entirely content with the idea either, but everyone complied, emptying their pockets. I placed my own phone in the bowl and placed said bowl on top of the cabinets, standing on top of the counter to reach it. The table had filled up, and everyone was reaching for food. I stood with a fist on my hip and cleared my throat.

"Are you Americans savage enough to not say grace? Captain Rogers, if you could," The man nodded and bowed his head. I took the empty seat at the head of the table and followed suit, muttering a short Russian blessing once the Captain had said his own. I gestured for them to eat, and they did so. With a great amount of gusto. This Thor character nearly smashed a glass on the ground. I had to give him the "death glare of doom" (Braydon had named it) and he refrained from doing so. I thanked him. If I were to live in a house with these people to full term, I may have some practice mothering them before I even birth my child.

I went back to my food, picking at it and eating it alternately, and looking up every so often to find a pair of eyes on me. I ignored them and once I finished, began to clear off plates and refilling glasses, performing the role of a hostess. Even though this house was not mine. Not like the one Braydon and I shared. I shoved the memory violently from the forefront of my mind and began to clean the table, as they all moved away from it, most seeing that my mood had visibly darkened. Just then, I had no patience for any sort of stupidity. I raked a hand through my hair as I put away the leftovers and simply zoned out as I was taken to a SHEILD field office.

I sat in a rather comfortable chair, staring at Director Fury as he was staring at me. I admit, the one-eyed stare was slightly startling, but I gouge gouged out eyes for a living, so the lack of an eye was not truly a concern of mine. I raised my eyebrows at him, about to speak, but he beat me to the punch.

"Well, as lovely as this staring contest is, I want you to tell me about Braydon Alexei Kirdan."

"What do you want to know?"

"Who did he work for?"

"Not the same people. The man he killed in the hotel was not on any of the lists I was given. Braydon was a hit man, much like me, paid to kill. He was good, and his mistake was to become affiliated with me."

"How was that a mistake?"

"We are here to talk about my husband, not myself. Braydon was a hired killer, but always worked for the same organization. We never talked business."

"Where did you keep your wedding rings?"

"Around our necks, if we kept them on our hands, it could pose a potential problem, as most of our job entails seduction."

"Do you know how he died?"

"No. He never came back. We usually do not call each other while on assignment but we always leave a message somehow to let each other know that we will be returning late or where to meet once we return. He did not leave a note, and he did not come back for two weeks. I looked for him for one more. Then I came here. If Braydon was dead, they were coming for me. If he was dead, they would have found the ring. His organization would ask around, and that would not take long at all. Basically, I was screwed. And hormonal." I smiled at him sweetly, before letting it dissolve quickly, making the overall look of innocence turn deadly.

"So, basically, you don't know if he's dead or not."

"Do you?"

"Yes, actually. He's not dead. He's one of our agents."


	4. Chapter 4

I took every single scrap of willpower left within me to not push in his eye until my thumb hit brain. Slowly, I ground out, through gritted teeth and a headache building behind my eyes. "Where. Is. My. Husband."

"He has been called. He will be here within the hour."

"I hate you, Nick Fury. I should have killed you while I had the chance. What, exactly is stopping me from killing you right now?"

"And could you survive the melee afterwards?"

"Probably not, but you would be dead, as well as a good number of your agents until they secured me in Hulk's playroom."

"How do you know about that?"

"How do you know about me?"

"We are a spy organization."

"And I am an assassin. It is both of our jobs to know things we aren't supposed to."

"Indeed."

I settled in my chair carefully, still prepared to launch myself at Director Fury and gouge his remaining eye out with my thumb.

"Are you not at all curious at why Braydon disappeared?"

"I know why."

"Do, enlighten me."

"I would rather not, that is my information to harbor and for my husband to confirm. You have not right to any of the information that I have."

"We have an arrangement."

"Yes, we do. You also have my husband. And my sister. You do not require any information from me, it seems. So, answer me this, Director Fury, why do you need me?"

The man leant forward, resting his elbow on his knees. "You, Anastasia Romanova-Kirdan, or whatever the hell your last name is, are an asset we cannot afford to lose. You are the only assassin to come out of your organization alive, and that, makes you invaluable."

"I hope you know that I do not know anything about my organization, despite the years I spent doing their dirty work."

"Oh, you know something, you simply aren't telling us."

"Who will be the judge of that?"

"I will, Ms. Romanova."

"Sadly, I don't trust your judgment, Nicholas Fury."

"I would call you a terrible assassin if you trusted anyone."

"You can only trust family. And even then, only slightly. It's a pity my family is so large."

"And speaking of family, here comes your loving husband."

I turned with a scowl on my face to Braydon, as handsome as he was the day I met him. Blonde. His hair color was either dyed or it was his real hair color. He never told me his real hair color. He looked hopeful as he entered the room and nodded to the Director, who left, obviously seeing that I was going to erupt into something he did not want to witness. If I was a normal woman, I would have slapped Braydon, but I was different. I was an assassin. I grabbed his hair and kicked out his knees harder than truly necessary before pinning him down, letting him fall to the floor, once more with more force than truly necessary. I straddled his back, holding his hands together with both of mine, bending his hands back to the point of pain. He grunted before speaking to me in Russian, as if we were still there, in Russia, in our little house.

_"At least I know you're in a good mood."_

_"Actually, I'm in a terrible mood, love."_

_"Really? You haven't broken any bones yet?"_

_"Do you want me to?"_

_"Not especially."_

_"I thought so."_

I tightened my grip on his wrists.

_"I suppose I owe you some answers."_

_"Yes, I suppose you do."_

_"Let me make it clear that I was to keep tabs on you, and the marrying part was something I did of my own volition, it was not in the itinerary."_

_"I'm sure it wasn't. Now, did you know that you were going to disappear before you left?"_

_"Of course I did, why do you think I had sex with you?"_

_"Well, I was slightly drunk and you are a man, so I assumed it was simply your biology kicking in."_

_"Slightly drunk," _He chuckled from his position on the floor,_ "love, you were all over me, there was nothing I could do, I really couldn't help myself."_

_"You arrogant _ублюдок_!" _**(The Russian means a child born of wedlock. Just so you know)**

_"I love it when you talk dirty to me."_

_"I'm sure you do, love. Now answers. I want the truth."_

_"Just like you gave me the truth?"_

_"I told you what I could to protect you, but what you told me was nothing but a bunch of lies, a made up backstory. You lied to me about your life."_

_"I never told you a lie. I told you I worked for a similar organization. That I was an assassin. I am an assassin, love. I am Russian. And yes, my hair is naturally this color. You have dyed yours recently though, I can smell it on you, why did you dye your lovely hair?"_

_"You are avoiding the subject, love, now why were you sent to keep tabs on me?"_

_"Anastasia, you are the sister to one of the most lethal assassins in the world, and not to mention you yourself have body count that was increasing constantly, did you really think that the connection would not be made, that you would not be noticed? The second your sister knew about the connection, I was dispatched, deep cover. Keep tabs on you, a killing here and there, for the sake of my sanity and S.H.E.I.L.D.'s."_

_"I'm still angry with you." _I stood up, letting go of his wrists and crossing my arms over my chests. He got up with a groan, muttering about bruises and how abusive I was.

_"Why are you angry with me now?"_

_"Because I'm pregnant, you _тупой ублюдок_!" _**(The Russian means stupid child born of wedlock)**I shoved him, hard, and he just stood there shocked before I punched him in the face and the solar plexus before kicking his shin and kneeing him in the groin hard. He recovered fairly quickly as I began to strike again, and successfully pinned me down.

"What?" His face still resembled that of a dazed puppy. I adored that stupid face. I hated that I adored that stupid face, especially when I was trying to be angry with him.

"You heard me the first time, ублюдок." **(The Russian, once again, means a child born of wedlock.)**

"You're pregnant?"

I didn't even merit the question with a verbal answer and shrugged my shoulders, pushing him off me, but not before getting another good punch in. I shook my hand slightly after I punched him. My knuckles would be bruised tomorrow. I took the satisfaction in knowing that there would be brilliantly colored bruises on his face in a little while.

"Alright, I suppose I deserved that." He straightened himself and rotated his jaw carefully, wincing slightly at the pain.

"You bet you did. And I want you to stay away from me for the time being."

"Why?"

"Because I can't trust you anymore, Braydon. Do you understand that? I cannot trust a single word that comes from your mouth. If you come near me again, without my invitation, I will not hold back this time. I may not have my knives on me, but you know that I do not require any sort of blade to remove the eyes of a man. So stay away from us."

"Us?"

"You're a smart boy, you'll figure it out." I once more knocked his feet out from under him and as he fell, pushed him down so he collided to with the floor at a faster rate. I walked out of the office, ignoring his footsteps behind me, calling "Ana, wait!" After he realized I wasn't listening anymore, he stopped. I continued walking, running my fingers through my hair and putting it to rights before pulling it back into a ponytail. I wanted to cry, but I pushed back the emotions and left the field office. I knew agents were following me. I let them as I walked back to Stark Tower. I wanted to be alone, and the bathroom of the room I was given was the safest place I could think of at that moment. I stepped into the tower, then walked past the desk to the elevator, ignoring the words of the receptionist, who was fussing since I entered without identification. I stopped and turned to him. He looked at me, and his face slowly turned frightened as I gave him the glare I give to people I don't particularly like. He walked away, muttering apologies. I entered the elevator.

"JARVIS, take me to my floor."

"Of course, Mrs. Kirdan."

"Don't call me that, JARVIS."

"Of course Mrs. Romanova."

"Thank you." The doors opened to the floor and I found my room easily. I walked to the bathroom and scrubbed off the cosmetics before walking to the kitchen and getting two bowls and filling them with ice. I turned on the television and stuck my hands into the bowls of ice, sighing as I felt the cold bring down the swelling in my knuckles. I heard footsteps behind me.

"I take it the meeting didn't go well."

"Next time I meet up with my supposedly-dead husband, remind me to wrap my hands."

"He told you then."

"Yes. If he ever comes here when I'm further along in the pregnancy, you're going to have to beat him up for me. A huge stomach is going to be quite cumbersome."

"You are in a lovely mood today."

"Actually, I'm not really in any sort of mood."

"Your knuckles seem to say otherwise."

"You should see the other guy. He is going to have a few hairline fractures. Well, at least, hopefully he will."

"That bad, huh?"

"I should have hurt him worse."

"I would have killed him."

"Of course you would do that, Nova."

"Or at least put him in a body cast."

"The damage I did was more emotional than physical."

"How?"

"I told him to stay away."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, he didn't listen. He's downstairs, asking for you."

I closed my eyes and sighed and withdrew my hands from the bowls of melted ice. I stood, turned off the television and dumped the water out of the bowls. I rubbed my hands together to get circulation back into my fingers. "Thank you for telling me Nova. I take it you still won't let me near my knives."

"Sadly, you are not allowed anywhere near your knives."

I scowled and leaned against the counter. "Do you have any suggestions on how to deal with this situation, Nova?"

"You want my advice, Casca?"

"Yes."

"Hear him out. I sent him back to Russia to watch over you, to make sure you were safe. S.H.E.I.L.D. didn't get involved until later. Most of the reports in the file were sent directly to me. I had to hand them all over once Fury decided you could be an asset. As far as I know, he loves you. And telling him you were pregnant only makes him more attached to you. Anyway, he can keep you safer than I can."

"How exactly can he do that?"

"You love him back, and you trust him more than you trust me."

"I'm sorry I can't trust you more, Nova."

"I wouldn't trust me either if I was in your position."

"What position am I in exactly?"

Natasha smiled. "You, Casca, are stuck between a rock and a hard place. S.H.E.I.L.D., and a soon to be over inflated stomach that happens to be a package deal with a blonde buffoon."

I laughed. "Thank you, Nova. I'm sorry we never got to be sisters."

"So am I, Casca."


End file.
